The Devil's Charm
by Laerkstrein
Summary: "Mortals," Loki replies, "are foolish. Trying to discern the opposing polarities of spellcraft and science is a mundane effort. Given where my talent so naturally lies, I thought it best to educate her on the matter. Ensure that, at the very least, she returns to Midgard with some genuine intelligence." The Dark World. Follow up to "He Doesn't Love You."


**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Thor _or _The Dark World_, or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Marvel and their respective creators. I only own any original characters that I choose to include, as well as any original plot ideas.

**The Devil's Charm**

**A/N: **So, apparently, people like my Lokane, which is a huge plus since I find myself enjoying writing it myself. Bonus points! This is for the lot of you for being so fantastic. Have fun, and expect more in the future. Follow up to "He Doesn't Love You."

* * *

This wasn't at all what she'd asked for. But it would taste a lie to say that, for the past several days, it wasn't what she'd thought about. Jane had always expected him to be cold, some great monster of a man with a fearsome face, not fair and looking as though he were built of wire and sinew. He was charming in a devilish sort of way, drawing people into a false sense of security with pretty words and shining eyes. And, the more Jane thought on it, the more she began to lose track of time trying to figure him out. Thinking about him.

This is wrong and she knows it. Letting him catch her by the arm as she pads down the darkened halls to her room, letting him pull her the opposite way and into his chambers with little more than quiet curses about how monstrous he is, how much she hates him.

She doesn't want to want to be tangled in the sheets with him, his body cool at room temperature while hers grows hot and red, fingers clawing through his hair, his skin, with obsession. He likes to bite, make her flinch and groan, cause her pain as she clings, seeking some manner of respite, comfort, from this man. But he is the Devil himself, Jane thinks, not at all warm and caring the way Thor is. The thought of the other is quickly stolen away, her body yanked hard against his, a harsh grunt in her ear that sounds like her name.

_"Jane..."_

Slowly, she rocks against him, yearning for more.

_"Jane?_ Jane!"

Eyes open, the length of the decorated table staring right back at her, their faces all brimming with worry. She rubs the sleep away, feels Thor's hand on her arm as he leans towards her, murmuring, asking if she is all right. A forced nod, the shock of the daydream still coursing through her. She is terribly uncomfortable now, poised at the table between the God of Thunder and his father, staring down at the other end to catch sight of the queen's concerned gaze as well.

A steady bit of movement and her attention is drawn to him, hand grasping his mother's in a gesture of comfort. Jane frowns, knows better than to believe him. She can see the silver sparks, like stars in the night sky, dancing in his dark eyes; knows that it is because of him that she has seen those things. Sorcerer, they call him. Trickster. Liar. Deceiver. There is no doubt in her mind that, within a realm of magic and gods and monsters, he could conjure up visions, project them into the eyes of another, make them think and feel and pray that all that they see is true and real.

"She didn't sleep last night," he says, and Thor's head turns.

"What?" That golden halo of hair moves back towards her.

She _hates_ him, the smug bastard. It's trying to break through, the satisfied smirk that hides beneath that mask of his as he outs her, knows damn well that she'd spent a good part of the previous evening wandering the palace grounds, wondering just where he had stepped and why. Obsessing over him, trying to figure him out for reasons that Jane herself does not quite understand.

Somehow, she finds, he is fascinating. Disturbingly so.

"I was in the library," she replies coolly, and Loki smirks. He knows that, for days now, she has recounted that lone encounter. "I found quite a few interesting texts the other day," Jane continues, "with a bit of help."

He looks a tad surprised at that, their focus quickly shifting to him. His mother beams, makes some remark as to how sweet it is that he's taken to teaching his brother's love about the realm, and Jane can see how that _eats_ at him. Loki can't stand the thought of them offering praise, not now after everything that's been done.

No, Jane thinks. It is more than that. He can't stand the idea of her having turned his game back on him. _He_ is supposed to be in control. She can see it in his eyes, his body language, the way he leans slightly forward to offer her a masked glare.

"Mortals," Loki replies, "are foolish. Trying to discern the opposing polarities of spellcraft and science is a mundane effort. Given where my talent so naturally lies, I thought it best to educate her on the matter. Ensure that, at the very least, she returns to Midgard with some genuine intelligence."

Thor very visibly frowns, mouth opening to shoot off a defensive retort when Odin's hand slams against the table.

"We will have no more of this," the Allfather says sternly, one eye turned towards his traitor son. "Am I understood?"

Jane sees his lip curl slightly, the tension growing in his figure, Frigga's hand falling upon his shoulder to steady him.

Loki looks to her a moment, quickly diverting his attention elsewhere, fingers curling around the handle of his knife.

It is with a satisfied smile that she pats Thor's arm, returns to the meal that she's barely touched, and she knows. She knows that he's furious with her now, that he must hate her far more than he did only moments ago. But that's fine, Jane thinks, because she hates him, too.

Because the devil's charm isn't quite so tricky as he thinks.


End file.
